The Locket
by Sanna Black Slytherin
Summary: Another Harry is Salazar story. This time Slytherin's soul has been trapped inside his locket. Harry finds it during the summer and it accidentally releases his previously forgotten memories. The other residents of Grimmauld Place Nr 12 are *not* amused.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Locket

**Author:** Sanna Black Slytherin

**Summary:** Another Harry-is-Salazar story. This time Slytherin's soul has been trapped inside his locket. Harry finds it during the summer and it accidentally releases his previously forgotten memories. The other residents of Grimmauld Place Nr 12 are _not_ amused.

**Warning:** Lots of swearing. And human stupidity. You have been warned.

**Disclaimer:** Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter. J K Rowling is the lucky girl who does.

**A/N:** I've decided to give the first POV thing a try. And, since I have no less than five different Harry-is-Salazar plot ideas in my mind, I just picked one. And so this story was born.

Enjoy!

* * *

The whole mess started with cleaning Grimmauld Place 12. Mrs Weasley took me, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George and Sirius as help in cleaning the house. The kitchen was already cleared and so was one of the living rooms ("Finally clean, after all those years," Sirius had sighed contentedly. The twins had snickered and asked why he kept Kreacher if he didn't use him. Sirius had flushed red and chose–wisely, in my opinion–not to answer the oh-so-innocent inquiry).

We were supposed to clean the other one the day when _it_ happened. I was assigned the task of taking out everything from the drawers in the saloon. Funny way to spend a sunny summer day, huh? Anyway, I was just throwing all the things on the floor when something caught my eye. It was a golden locket with a green 'S' embedded in it. Somehow, it didn't seem like something the Blacks would own. I eyed it with morbid fascination, then decided to examine it closer. I took hold of the locket and pulled it out of the drawer. I eyed it, then made what I now realize was my dumbest decision in my entire life–and yet one I wouldn't undo for the world. I put the locket on. Instantly I felt a disruption in the air–or was it magic? I looked around, but no one but me seemed to notice. I turned back to the drawers to continue digging through it, but something was just... off. I didn't know what it was, though, so I set back to work.

The dinner is always noisy. I usually don't mind, hell, I usually join Fred, George and Sirius in discussing new prank ideas or talk to Hermione about some essay or other.

Today, though, was entirely different. I was grimacing through the entire meal, mentally cursing everyone else and going through a list of spells I could use to take revenge on the twins and my dear godfather.

My mood must have shown on my face, because Hermione suddenly waved a hand before my eyes. I closed them, as though trying to shun out all the sound.

"Harry?" I heard Hermione's voice. "Harry, are you alright?"

I nodded, still not opening my eyes, wanting nothing but being left alone. Unfortunately for me, Hermione didn't get the hint. "Harry? Harry–Sirius, look at him! He's got to be sick!" I could practically _feel_ everybody's eyes on my back.

"–arry?" Sirius' voice inquired. "Are you okay?"

I finally opened my eyes and fixed them on Sirius, who, to my satisfaction, squirmed under my piercing stare. Wait–satisfaction? No, it just wasn't right. Something was definitely wrong with me today.

"Yeah, I'm alright," I said. "Just a bit tired, that's all."

The mood in the room lightened considerably and everybody returned to their previous conversations. All except Hermione. She–she just kind of stared at me, as though I was an interesting book. Ugh, now that was a disgusting comparition.

"Nice necklase you got there," she said after awhile. She pointed at the locket I found today.

I graced her with a laconic nod. Now, though, I had Sirius' attention once more. "Oh, I see you've found it," he said. "It's a family heirloom, you can keep it if you want to. I don't need it," he waved a hand and returned to the conversation he had with Ron.

Oddly enough, I found myself _wanting_ to keep the locket. As though the locket and I had a bond... of sorts. It was silly, I knew it, and yet I couldn't imagine to part with it. It's as though it was a part of me.

Hermione did not give up her questioning, though. "Where did you find it?" she inquired.

"The drawers in the living room," I said, feeling tired and wanting nothing more that a warm, comfy bed.

"It's nice," she admitted. "But why did you take it? I mean, there was a lot of other things, why take this one?"

I shrugged; I haven't given it much thought before. It's not like you question everything you find everyday. Way too much trouble. "Curiosity, I guess," I said, closing my eyes once more.

I heard her open her mouth once more, no doubt to ask me another question, but something stopped her. Subconsciously I noticed how everybody suddenly stopped talking. I opened my eyes, only to see a–well, what was it? A ghost? A memory? A transparent vampire? (It certainly looked like one.)

Seeing as everybody else was too shocked to do, or say, anything, I decided to ask the obvious question. "Who are you?" I sneered at him.

He smirked at me. Yes, _smirked_. At _me_. I mean, what was so funny about that question? Before I could give it any thought, however, he answered, "They say, 'curiousity killed the cat', you know that?"

It took me a moment to realize that he was referring to my earlier comment.

"What kind of question is that?" I asked, now mildly annoyed.

He snorted. "A rhetorical one, moron."

He cleared his throat. "But I didn't answer your earlier question, now did I?" a few snorts were heard around the room, now that people around the table were getting over the initial shock of seeing a complete stranger in the Order of the Phoenix headquarters. "You know what? I don't feel like answering that question, at least not yet. First I'll tell you what exactly your new locket is," he pointed at the locket that was hanging around my neck.

"Once upon a time, there was a wizard named Salazar Slytherin. Long story short, he wanted to be immortal. But, see, he didn't want to use anything that would damage his soul, so he researched. A lot. Eventually he stumbed upon something called reincarnation. He was willing to try it, so he cast a spell that would cause his–ah, rebirth, in the most fitting person. He then put his whole soul into an object. That object was this very locket. He charmed it so when the chosen person donned the locket, the reincarnation process would start," the man's eyes were fixed on me by now. "That chosen someone would slowly regain Slytherin's memories–amongst other things."

He was, for some reason, evidently uncomfortable with the subject. But I didn't care. What did it have to do with me? A little voice in my head told me that, subconsciously, I already knew and just didn't want to admit it to myself. "And what does it have to do with me?" I voiced my wonders.

The man laughed. It was a cold, creepy laugh that sent chills down my spine. Just who was this man? All I knew was that I didn't want to be on his bad side; he looked to be the type that wouldn't hesitate to cast a strong Cruciatus just to get his point across. "And here I thought you were worthy," he sneered. "Apparently I was wrong."

I felt anger swirl inside me. What did he mean, I wasn't worthy? Of course I was! And just what was I supposed to be worthy _of_?

Apparently I let my emotions show, because the man's sneer became more pronounced and he remarked snidely, "You need to get a better control of your emotions. You cannot just let them show like this."

He focused once again on the others. "Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," he briefly threw a contemptuous look at me before continuing. "When this chosen person puts on the locket, he or she regain the memories of Salazar Slytherin. More than memories–habits, reflexes, knowledge and various traits, it even affects how the person looks. It can change your whole person."

As the man rambled on about something or other (which I completely tuned out), something clicked in my head. Ever since I put on this locket, I started feeling out of my character. Annoyed with people for no reason whatsoever, ignoring my friends, getting into inner feuds with them...

That's not me.

As the sudden realization hit me and my brain tried to process what I just realized, my subconsciousness listened to the man as he answered a question, no doubt posed by Hermione. He hesitated before he opened his mouth, as though thinking just how much was safe to tell. "There are known to be side effects." he said slowly and cautiously.

"What side effects?" Hermione ploughed on.

"You'd like to know, now wouldn't you? Well, it's for me to know and for you to find out," the man smirked.

Silence reigned at the kitchen once more. I broke it just a little while later. "It's me, isn't it?" I said, my brain finally catching up with the realization. "I'm the reincarnation of Salazar Slytherin. And," I added, just realizing one other thing. "You're me. I mean, you're Salazar Slytherin."

The strange man smirked a wicked and intimating way. Frankly, it scared the hell out of me. "Took you long enough, Potter," his self-satisfied smirk was still plastered on his face as he turned around to face the others. "Yes, Potter here is right on both things. I am Salazar Slytherin, and Potter here is my reincarnation."

The others around the table moved subtly (in their opinion, at least) away from me. I could understand them, of course I could, and yet I became mad at them. This time, though, I was careful not to show it.

Slytherin continued, not bothered the slightest by their reaction. "Over the next few months, Potter will gain all of Slytherin's memories, along with other things. I wouldn't bother removing the locket," he said, as I was beginning to take that blasted locket off. He smirked in a particularly vicious way. "It won't help, and will only make the–ah, transformation more painful than it needs to be," He was damn _smirking_! That son of a bitch!

He did a movement with his hand, as though checking his clock, the looked at us again. "Well, if we do have everything sorted out, I need to go. You know, torturing people and other fun," his face twisted into a grimace I couldn't really call a smile, then he just disappeared. Literally.

We were left staring at each other, me being stared at the most (for obvious reasons), in complete silence.

* * *

**A/N:** So how was it? Good? Bad? Okay? Totally crappy? I need to know these things, you know. And sorry for the unoriginal title. If someone has an idea for a better one, don't hesitate to either review or PM me; I don't bite (mostly). Also, correct me if you caught any spelling mistakes, logical ones, grammar or punctuation or anything.

Don't forget to review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Warnings:** Same as in last chapter. Especially the latter warning.

**Dislaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, J K Rowling does. (And I am not Jo or her reincarnation, so no, I still don't own HP.)

**A/N:** Ooops, just realized I forgot to write a disclaimer in chapter one. Went back and changed it *grin*.

* * *

The following week was a pain in the arse, let me tell you. It was one of the most boring weeks in my life (Dursleys included). Everybody, and I mean _everybody_, avoided me like I had some kind of a lethal disease.

On day seven I got fed up.

"What the hell's the matter with you people?" I yelled as I swept into the living room where everybody was relaxing. Every head turned towards me and the look in their eyes immediately went from relaxed to wary. _Of course it did,_ I thought wryly. _They had to careful now that they had a Dark Lord amongst them,_ I added laconically.

Of course, that did not stop me from continuing. "It's still me! I'm not Sly–Him!" Even after a whole week of being left alone to think and ponder upon everything that happened, I still couldn't say his name without shivering. I couldn't imagine how much harder it must have been for everybody else. "So grow up and get over it! Come to me when you have!" with that I shut the door closed and for a moment I almost thought they would fall of their hinges. Alas, it did not happen. What a shame.

I made way to the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. Or two. I planned on staying there and eating sandwiches until somebody came to me and apologized for their despicable behaviour. I was just stubborn like that.

It took them over four sandwiches, but eventually Sirius opened the door hesitantly and called out, "Harry? Are you in there?"

A meaningless thing to say, if you ask me, since he could clearly see me. I felt a contemptuous sneer crawl up on my face, but I decided to deal with Sirius first. Godfathers took precedence over facial expressions, after all. Most of the time.

"Yes, I'm here," I said calmly, making myself a fifth sandwich, this time with chocolate. Did I mention that Salazar Slytherin was a chocolate freak, and so was I? Yes, I started to remember certain things from my–my previous life, as I have taken to calling it.

Sirius trudged uncertainly into the room, followed by Lupin, Ron, Hermione, the twins and Mr and Mrs Weasley. He looked at me, undoubtedly thinking about what to say. "Uh, you see, Harry, I've been thinking..." _Really, now?_, I thought rather snidely. I didn't get a chance to examine where the biting sarcasm came from, because Sirius went on. "And I realized I've been resentful towards you–that we've all been resentful. I just didn't really realize it could affect you so strongly, I guess," he tried to go for a nonchalant shrug–and failed. "So I came here to apologize, to say I'm sorry. I really didn't want to hurt you, and yet I did. What kind of a godfather am I?" the last part was whispered under Sirius' breath rather than said out loud, but I heard it nonetheless. "A godfather should accept his child, no matter who the child is. Give me a chance to make it up for you, please."

By the end of his speech (I had a feeling Hermione dabbled in this one, she was scarily good at politics when necessary), I was smiling rather than sneering which, undoubtedly, was the goal of the speech.

"Well," I said, drawing out the words and playing on the suspence I knew was building up within not only Sirius but all the others in the kitchen. "I suppose another chance wouldn't hurt, oh godfather of mine."

I could almost hear the inner sighs of relief everywhere around me. I smirked.

Life was looking up.

* * *

The following evening found me in the living room, reading one of the books I got as a birthday gift from Hermione and Lupin.

I got as far as to page thirty when I was rudely interrupted by the entrance of Hermione Granger, followed by Ron Weasley, followed by Fred and George Weasley. Hermione made a beeline for one of the couches in front of the fireplace. The twins spread out on the floor with some sketches and notes of what looked like their future products.

Ron seemed to linger in the doorway, then set his mind on something and came over to me. "What'cha reading, Harry?" I noticed the distinct lack of 'mate' or 'dude' in the sentence, words that Ron called me all the time over the last four years.

"'Advanced Defensive Jinxes and Counter-Curses'," I replied without looking up.

"...Oh," Ron answered. I knew–or could accurately guess–what answer he expected and that it wasn't this one. However I wasn't going to start to suddenly plunge into the Dark Arts books just because it turned out I was a dark wizard in my previous life.

Oh, I wasn't about to deny that Salazar Slytherin wasn't fascinated by Dark Magic or that he actively practiced it. That would be lying right into my own face. But in this life, as Harry Potter, I resolved to wait and see on that matter.

Ron sat down in the chair in front of me. There was an awkward silence during which he stared at me. I didn't know what he expected me to say or do, but he clearly wanted _something_. Deciding to let him take the first step, I returned to reading.

I barely read half a page before he started talking again. I sighed quietly and closed my book, swiftly marking the page. "You aren't what I expected Slytherin to be, y'know? I mean, I kind of expected him to be like Snape, just scarier–if that's even possible. You don't behave like that. I mean, sure, you're quieter than normal, but that's sort of the way it's been the whole summer, so I can deal with that.

"I also expected you to start, I don't know, throwing around dark curses and laughing gleefully," he shrugged, sounding as though he forgot I was even there. I didn't think he would say something like that to my face. He was far too shy for that. "But you don't. And while I'm happy you haven't changed much," _yet_, I added silently. "I don't know how to deal with that. I've been preparing myself for a different you. You being the same kind of throws me off the track, if you know what I mean..." he trailed off.

Only then did Ron notice that not only did he have company in the room, but that said company was currently staring at him as though they'd never seen him before, me included. "What?" he asked offended.

Hermione stared at Ron. "That was very deep of you, Ron," she said sincerely.

Ron blushed. "Thanks," he mumbled.

I nodded in agreement, then returned to my book. From the corner of my eyes I could see that the twins returned to their sketches and Hermione to her book. Ron looked around, then settled for a nap in the chair.

* * *

Two people–a man and a woman–were sitting around a table, drawing up some plans and drafts. The man had long, black hair and cold, green eyes. He was dressed in forest-green robes with a touch of black and silver. The woman had dark hair and sparkling, chocolate-brown eyes. She was dressed in a blood-red dress with black details. She was pointing something out to the man, who nodded in agreement and said something inaudible.

I realized I was dreaming. But these weren't dreams, they were memories long forgotten. Memories of Salazar Slytherin. I knew that the man was Slytherin–me–and the woman was Ravenclaw (though why she was wearing red was beyond me). Somehow, I also knew what they were saying, even though I couldn't hear it. They were discussing a school–Hogwarts–and its curriculum.

The woman–Ravenclaw–suddenly took out her wand and with a swish, she organized the parchments into one single pile. Both Slytherin and Ravenclaw stood up and exited the room.

* * *

I woke up and sat up in my bed. Looking at the clock, I realized it was around three in the morning. I sighed resignedly. I started to get used to waking up in the middle of the night–something that should creep me out, yet it didn't.

It's been two weeks since my other self told the residents of Grimmauld Place that I happened to be a reincarnated Founder of Hogwarts. Since then, I've been dealing with all kinds of feelings from everybody–from suspicion (Moody), mistrust (again, Moody) and wariness (Tonks and Lupin), to reverence (the twins; turned out Slytherin was secretly their idol, more on that later), feigned nonchalance (Ron and Sirius) and exasperation (Hermione and Mrs Weasley, though it might be aimed at the two aforementioned males rather than me).

Dumbledore and McGonagall came to visit a week ago. Let's just say it was a highly entertaining visit and leave it at that (though if you ask Messrs Fred and George Weasley, they might tell you a tale of gawping Headmasters and staring Deputies, but that's not my story to tell). After the revelation, Dumbledore decided to stay at the Headquarters. Officially, he was overseeing the reinstallation of the Order of the Phoenix. Personally, I think he was looking for entertainment–and that was granted, what with six Weasleys, two Marauders, a reincarnated Slytherin, a paranoid ex-Auror, another clumsy Auror and a bookworm. After all, at Dumbledore's age, what else was left, other than screwing with people?

I haven't seen McGonagall since she found out. I think she's still in denial that one of her little lions is actually the king of snakes (an expression Fred and George spread around in their fourth year, what with everybody suspecting me of being the Heir of Slytherin). I knew she would come around eventually, though I didn't know how long it would take.

In the meantime, I started to be assaulted by old memories all the time, mostly at night when I slept. Along with the memories came a still growing knowledge of all sorts of subjects, Potions and Mind Magic being the largest ones. I supposed what they said was true–my former self was truly the best Potions Master in history, having attained the Mastery at the tender age of sixteen.

The newfound knowledge had one rather useful perk though–the summer assignment turned out to be a lot easier than I initially thought. The Potions homework was by far the easiest, especially seeing as it _Snape_ that gave it. _'Research the Draught of Peace, discuss how the ingredients react with each other, then conclude with a short warning on which ingredients ought to be avoided at all costs'_. I found that I didn't need to look into the textbook even once; I wrote it all from my memory–or rather, His memory.

Apparently, I was the only one to think that the Potions assignment was easy. All of the others–Fred, George and Ron (and Hermione too, though she'd rather die than admit it)–were sitting around the kitchen table and trying to scrape together something that resembled an acceptable essay. I saw them when I entered the kitchen to drink something. I decided to observe, as they didn't seem to take notice of me even being there.

"Argh!" Ron growled and threw up his hands in defeat. "I give up! This thing's impossible to write! What does Snape think we are, walking encyclopedias?"

Hermione sighed and looked at Ron. "Ron, he just wants us to understand how this potion works so that we can brew it with ease. He isn't purposedly mean," Hermione hesitated at the end, as if trying to convince herself as much as Ron.

George looked up from 'Advanced Potions-Making' to look at Hermione. "Hermione, don't try to protect that git. We all know that he demands the impossible and then enjoys flunking us."

"Hear, hear!" Fred joined the conversation. "I can just imagine the gleeful look on his face when he writes that ugly 'T' of his on my essay," he shuddered.

I smirked–I couldn't resist it, the mental picture was hilarious. I silently put the now empty glass on the counter and made my way to the table where my four friends were sitting. "Sounds like you need help," I said, sitting down gracefully on the chair between George and Hermione.

All four of them jumped, only now noticing me. "How long did you stand there, Harry?" Fred asked suspiciously.

I shrugged. "Long enough to know you have a bit of a problem with this," I pointed to his Potions essay. Well, it wasn't really an essay, not yet–Fred had only written the title, '_The Polyjuice Potion'_. The rest of the parchment was empty.

"Are you already done with that?" Ron asked incredulously.

George perked up, pointedly ignoring Ron. "Can you help?" he asked, immediately taking an opportunity to be done with his most hated subject.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "How can you help? Not to be rude, but you aren't good at–" she broke off as a look of realization hit her. "Oh."

I smirked. "Yes, Hermione, 'oh'. Now, do you need help?" he prodded her homework.

Ron looked between the two. "Mind explaining to us non-geniuses," ("It's genii, Ronald," Hermione reprimanded. "Yeah, whatever," Ron waved it away) "what you meant?"

Surprisingly, it was George that answered Ron's question. "Supposedly, Salazar Slytherin was a Potions Master, and a darn good one at that. Since Harry's his reincarnation, it's not hard to realize that Harry takes after Slytherin."

I was surprised that George Weasley, of all people, knew that little piece of history. I quirked an eyebrow–a habit I picked up from Him. George reddened and answered the unspoken question. "Well, you see... Me and Fred, we kind of..."

"Worshipped you," Fred took over, equally red in the face. "I mean, we worshipped Salazar Slytherin, but it doesn't matter now."

I couldn't hold back a smirk. I suspected the twins held the Founder of all things sneaky and clever in high regard, but it was wonderful to get it confirmed. Fred and George either didn't notice my smirk, or pretended they didn't.

"Anyway, we tried finding some sort of biography of you–"

"Let me guess–you failed?" I asked. If there was any biography, Hermione would have found it by now.

Fred nodded. "Yes, the only thing we found was a reference in 'Hogwarts: A History' that _'Salazar Slytherin was a renowned Potions Master, possibly the youngest in history. He invented many of the most common potions wizards and witches use nowadays, among many the Veritaserum'_."

"I don't–" I started, only to be cut off by the resident bookworm.

"Sorry to interrupt," Hermione didn't look sorry at all. "But, as fun as it is to see my best friend being worshipped by my other best friend's brothers, can we get back to work?" to emphasize her point, she held up George's essay which contained about as much text as Fred's did.

"Right," Fred said with a grin. "Well, oh esteemed Potions Master, canst thou helpest us?"

I grinned as well. "Well, since you beg so nicely..."

And so I spent the afternoon explaining the complexities of the Polyjuice Potion to Fred and George, and helping Ron and Hermione with their esays on the Draught of Peace. I found that I enjoyed teaching people–that was, I noticed, another trait I picked up from Him.

What surprised me the most, however, was that, now that everything has calmed down a tad, my friends were very much fine with me being the legendary Snake Lord. It was almost as though they were less bothered by it than I was, when it was supposed to be the other way around. I didn't know what I did to deserve such loyal friends (although Hermione would probably find something).

I smirked (because it just wouldn't do to smile)–I could get used to this.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews, folks! I'm happy you liked it. As usual, point out if you see any mistakes or misspellings. Sorry I've been gone for a bit, but I got a writer's block, and when I finally had some inspiration, I didn't have any internet connection (was sailing for the last three weeks) or even my computer. The hurry up some of you sent me was just the kick in the metaphorical balls I needed. On another note entirely, I need your help with coming up with ideas on the... non-amused-ness of the Grimmauld Place Nr 12 residents. There is only so much I can come up with on my own, so feel free to send in your ideas :D

**EDIT:** 9/1/13: Changed a little detail to make a funny oneshot possible.

Oh, and I have just published a new series of oneshots, from the Founders' time. (Y'know, like why Hogwarts is named after a pig, how the school got its motto, why a Basilisk is a preferable protector instead of a dragon and much more.) Make sure to check it out!

The next chapter will include Snape's reaction to the revelation and a little anecdote about drinking, pigs and naming Hogwarts, as seen from Salazar's point of view.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and don't forget to review!


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